


Mint Chocolate Chip

by Hoodoo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Play, Ice Cream, Public Blow Jobs, Ricks are pricks to other Ricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: It's summer and it's too hot. Ice cream should make it better.





	Mint Chocolate Chip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittenwrath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenwrath/gifts).



> Special appearance by [PorkChop's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorkChop/pseuds/PorkChop) [Ice Cream Rick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14967863).

It was stupid hot. The only saving grace was that Rick knew where to get the best ice cream in the galaxy. He knew another Rick who had an ice cream truck, who _just so happened_ to have shown up in your dimension, on your Earth, two blocks over. 

Ice Cream Rick was popular, and you had to stand in line for a bit before it was your turn. You had his menu memorized by the time you got to the window.

“Two scoops, mint chocolate chip, in a cake cone, please,” you tell him. It’s a little disconcerting to talk to someone who looks so similar to the Rick you know so well. 

“Chunky or smooth?” he asks.

You thought you had his options memorized. 

He can see your confusion and explains, “Actual chocolate chips in it, or chocolate swirled through it?”

You’d never been asked to make that choice before.

Rick nudges you and suggests the swirled chocolate.

You shrug and answer Ice Cream Rick. “Swirled, I guess?”

He nods, takes Rick’s order–some kind of wordless conversation passed between them, briefly–and turned in his vehicle to get your requests together. In a few moments he’s back at the window, handing your orders to you. 

Yours has three scoops. 

“Friend of a friend special,” Ice Cream Rick says, winking at you.

You thank him, and then you and your Rick turn to walk back to his garage.

⁂

The ice cream is delicious. It’s pale green instead of the not-found-in-nature color that you’ve eaten before. The mint is more nuanced too, instead of chemical-y, and you can even see tiny shreds of real mint leaves in it. The chocolate swirl provides a nice contrast to the other flavor. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to go back to dumb old regular ice cream after this. 

You also wonder if you’ll be able to eat this cone fast enough without making a huge mess because it’s already starting to drip everywhere due to the heat. 

You shift the cone to your other hand, and lick your fingers.

Rick makes a face. “How can you eat that?”

He’s gotten a small vanilla cone. For a self-proclaimed genius and ice cream lover, he’s incredibly unimaginative when it comes to ice cream flavors.

“You jealous like the last time we got ice cream?” you reply with a smirk. 

“No. Mint chocolate-mint chocolate chip is gross.”

“No it’s not. It’s delicious.”

“Wh-whatever.”

Inside his garage is just as hot as the rest of the world. You’d like to go further inside the house where it’s cool, but you’ve managed to get ice cream all over both hands now, and some down your chin and shirt. Tidily finishing his own cone, Rick grimaces at your mess. You catch his disapproval, and smirk again. 

“I bet I can get you to like mint chocolate.”

“No you can’t,” he says dismissively.

“That sounds like a challenge …”

And with no further warning, you step up against him and kiss him. He pushes you away.

“You’ve gotten ice cream all over me!”

You had. It smeared on his chin, and there was some on the shoulder of his lab coat, and a spot on his shirt where you’d grabbed him. Instead of apologizing, you take the same sticky hand and cup his crotch. 

“Oops, got it there too,” you apologize insincerely, licking ineffectually at a drip of the still melting cone. “Better get out of those messy clothes …”

“What’s gotten into you?” he grumbled. 

You shrug and used that same hand to fumble with his belt buckle and fly. Despite seeming put out, Rick doesn’t try to fight you off him as you manage to get his trousers unfastened. The stickiness on your hand had rubbed off a little by the time you make it deep into his underwear. He’s already sporting a partial erection from what you’ve been doing. 

Between eating your ice cream and pushing at his pants, you drop to your knees in front of him.

“You do know the garage door is open, right?” Rick says drily.

You shrug. “You said you didn’t like mint chocolate, and I’m going to make you change your mind!”

And with that, you hold your melty ice cream cone over his cock. He jumps at the cold and hisses, “Shit!”, but you continue. Pale green ice cream drips onto him, coating him, and with a your tongue caught between your teeth you smile up at him before taking him into your mouth. 

He mutters, “Shit!” again in a much different tone, and his cock hardens between your lips. 

You suck the flavor off his cock. Rick moans at the heavy sensation, and whines when you pull off him. You dribble some more of the ice cream onto him, and gulp him down again; you repeat the routine until he’s gasping and groaning with each inward and outward motion. The contrast of cold wet and warm wet from your mouth makes him mewl too. 

When you get tired of pausing and start to blow him in earnest, Rick holds your hair out of your way. The strands are already coated with ice cream, just like your chin and cheeks. His fingers stick a little but you’re both past caring about that. 

The cone in your hand became mushy from the liquid ice cream, and dissolves a bit. You drop it with a splat on the garage floor and are left with a palmful of goop. With a sly smile up Rick’s body to his face–he catches your gaze and gives you a shaky smile in return–you wrap your ice cream covered hand around the base of his cock and jerk him off slowly. 

You watch Rick’s head start to fall back. He moans, low and deep, then his chin drops forward and he watches your sticky hand pull his cock. You flick your gaze between his face and watching yourself. His entire groin is tacky from the sugar and cream. After a moment of using just your hand, you dip your head back in and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. 

Rick jerks involuntarily as you do.

Then you use your mouth and hand in tandem, holding him steady as you take most of him over your tongue, following your mouth with your hand on the way back out. Sometimes you apply suction to his head while your hand strokes and twists the shaft. Sometimes you slip your hand to his balls as you deep throat him. The noises he makes tick upward in response to the stimulation.

There’s no more ice cream flavor left. The only reminder of it is the tacky feel and thickened spit that you don’t even try to swallow. He’s soaked. The front of you is soaked. Still you continue and pick up the pace, even as Rick’s fingers pinch your shoulder tightly and occasionally pull your hair.

You know when he’s getting close to orgasming. Sometimes he tries to slow you down because he wants it to last, but today you’re dictating what happens, and you feel him tense seconds before he comes.

When he does, his hips push forward and you take him fully into your mouth. He ejaculates deep into your throat, and leaves a trail of semen on your tongue as he pulls out.

Swallowing, the taste in your mouth is a combination of him and mint chocolate. 

You smile up at him. Rick steadies himself by keeping his hand on you as he catches his breath.

“So mint chocolate isn’t too bad, huh?” you tease, carefully getting up. Idly you lick your fingers. 

“I thought you were going to-going to drop your own pants and smear your pussy with that ice cream,” he replies, “and make me eat you out.”

You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, as he gingerly starts to tuck himself away. That was a turn around from what he said earlier, and you consider it a win.

There’s the faint jingling song of an ice cream truck getting closer. Rick’s head snaps up, and, still carefully zipping his fly he marches out of the garage. His entire crotch is wet. You’re still a mess, with melted ice cream all down your front and your hair sticking out in odd spikes from the sugar. You continue licking your palm.

Ice Cream Rick’s vehicle stops at the end of the driveway, and the Rick who sold you the treat leans over on the seat to shout out the passenger window, “Enjoy the ice cream?”

“It was you!” Rick yells.

“What was me?” Ice Cream Rick replies.

“You! You and your ice cream!”

“My ice cream is made of the finest ingredients–” Ice Cream Rick interrupts angrily.

“You spiked it with some kind of aphrodisiac!”

Ice Cream Rick doesn’t deny this, which should make you mad. It doesn’t. Even sloppy, the ice cream is delicious. 

“I thought you wanted me to!”

 _“What?!”_ Rick shouts. 

“You wanted me to give her the swirled chocolate!” he shouts back, like that should be obvious. “I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“You think I can’t get laid without some goddamn _love potion?!”_

“Hey man, I don’t judge! I just sell ice cream!” Ice Cream Rick cackles. He flips Rick off as he laughs, and drives away. 

Rick returns the middle finger, and grumbling under his breath, comes back up the driveway to you. You’ve done the best you can cleaning most of the residual ice cream off your hand and wrist. 

“Come on, baby,” he tells you. “Let’s go shower and get all this off.”

“And get me off?” you ask, batting your eyelids coyly. 

He snorts a laugh. “Sure thing. Come on.”

Rick leads you into the house. Maybe he was upset at Ice Cream Rick, but you can’t wait for the next time he’s around. Mint chocolate is your favorite, but you can’t wait to try the other flavors he offers. 

_fin!_


End file.
